Which here prevails, and which has risen upLike some rich harvest ’neath the fostering careOf such a parent, whose example spokeMore loudly than his precepts. But ere this,A few quick sketches, of the chief eventsThat marked his life, and helped to mould its form,Shall now be made—though feeble to portrayThe bright reality, or give life and formTo inward workings of the subtil mind.Sir Arthur was the sole surviving childOf him whose name he bears. The other sonsAnd infant daughters passed away from earthLike fruit-tree blossoms, beautiful and briefIn their career. The tablets in the church,Recording ancestry through ages past,Record as briefly the short time betwixtTheir birth and death. Thus he alone was leftThe living centre, where the fervent loveOf two fond parents, could condense its rays.From budding infancy, the tender careAnd sweet affection of a mother’s breast,Filled his young heart with tenderness. In youthA father’s wish, and more ambitious loveGave each advantage, and secured each meansThat could advance in life. A home so fraughtWith kind indulgence, and where every wishWithin the bounds of reason was fulfilledAlmost as soon as framed was not a schoolBest fitted to prepare an active mind,To struggle boldly with the ills of life,And combat with its evils. But their loveRose higher in its grade, than that which thinksAlone of ease and pleasure and delight.It far preferred a future happinessTo present joy; and sterling moral worth,With intellectual wealth, and mental strength,As man’s chief earthly good. And hence it cameThat when his young mind had imbibed at homeEnnobling principles and pious thoughtsTo give it strength, their faithful love forewentThe pleasure of his presence to secureThe sterner discipline of school, and bringThose precepts into action. With an eyeOf keenest vigilance, and heart of care,They watched his progress, and with rich delightBeheld the fruits of their unwearied loveSwell into promise. Here he learned to feel,As one amongst a many, and to knowThe limits of his rights, and thence regardThe rights of others. Being much belovedAmongst his playmates, for a truthful heart,An amiable temper, and due skillIn many boyish sports; to which was joinedInventive talent, ingenuity,Mechanic art, by which was aptly framed,Things strange and curious, and thus he gainedA fame for intellect, and soon becameA leader of his fellows, whilst his daysPassed on in peace and happiness serene.When youth was verging into man, he wentTo college, that severer discipline,And study more intense, might build his mindIn knowledge, strength, and vigour. Honours dueWere soon awarded, and he home returnedWell nurtured to take part in public life,And serve the state whene’er it might require.The time of leisure had employment dueIn lighter studies, caring the estate,And welcome visits to the nobles round,That ever won such friendship and esteemAs time could not revoke. Amid the fair,The lovely and the beautiful, to himOne shone more lovely, fair, and beautifulThan all the rest; as shines the evening starAbove the brightness of the ether round.Wealth, station, grandeur, shed their gifts on herAnd all their rich endowments. In her eyeThere beamed the light of pure and gentle love,Whilst in her heart the modest virtues dweltCalm, soft and feminine; a woman she,“A perfect woman”—one whose form of soulWas framed for union with the heart of manTo be its solace, to restore its strengthWhen wearied with the world; to pour the oilOf rich affection on the wounded soul,To heal the spirit, to revive the mind,And with angelic ministrings restoreTo life and health again. Such sway when reignThe storms of trial and adversity,But through the calm and balmy days of life,To make his home a temple, and his hearthAn altar, where for ever glowing bright,The flame of gentle and enduring loveSheds its clear beams around, and burning fairPoints sweetly up to heaven. When first his eyeBeheld this loveliness, he felt withinA new life waken, and the life gone bySeemed but a heavy dream. Bright hopes, glad thoughtsAnd richest feelings stirred within his breastIn joyous tumult. Solitary hours,And woodland musings, nursed the passion sweet,Until that Being had become the starOf his life’s destiny. In hope, in doubt,In strange conflicting turbulence of soul,He sought, he sued, he won. One blushing wordOf sweet consent from her pure modest lipsTurned all to peace again, and more than peace,To ecstacy and rapture! Earth seemed changedTo paradise, and heaven above him shoneWith brighter radiance. Happy fled the hours,All swiftly bringing in their golden trainTheir brightest and their best, the hour to sealThis bliss for ever his. The bridal wreath,The fair attire, the pure attendant maids,And all the pomp and pageantry that tellsThe joy and gladness that awaits the bond,And consummation of a holy love,Were each prepared. When ah! the fearful changeAwaiting mortal destinies! A cloudSpread its black shadow o’er this sunny scene,And from its bosom, thunder-charged, sent forthThe shaft of death! A sudden illness seizedThe young and beautiful. Her bridal trainWept o’er her bier. And he who should have ledA bride in triumph from the altar, strewedSad flowers on Ellen’s grave, and with a griefTearless, consuming, in its mighty strength,Himself seemed death-struck. Agony intense,Dark desolation of the inmost soul,And dread prostration of its sympathiesHe long endured. The light of life to himAppeared for ever gone; the glorious earthBereft of all its beauties. Cheerless, lone,He felt as in a desert; naught in lifeCould win his spirit to activity,And social links seemed severed. Soon againHis footsteps rested on the gloomy vergeOf the dark sepulchre. The voice of deathCalled that fond parent, who with gentle loveHad nurtured his weak infancy, and she,With heavenly meekness, listened to the call,And softly passed from life. He who had satBeside the self-same hearth, when auburn hairCurled round her brow, till now bright silver braidsAdorned her aged forehead, missed the look,The fair, the placid look of time-tried loveIllumining his home, and though his soulHeld calmest resignation, yet he pinedWith secret longing to rejoin in heavenShe who had been an angel on the earth,In purity and gentleness. The sunHad scarcely circled round the seasons ereHis spirit’s prayer was answered, and he seemedTo melt from time into eternity,So peaceful was his end. Thus left alone,And of all nearest earthly ties bereaved,A double desolation, cast its gloomOn Arthur’s wounded heart. Though wealth was his,Titles and honours, they retained no charmTo soothe his broken spirit. In the primeOf early manhood, just emerged from youthWhen life is full of promise, life to himHad scarce a promise left. Home scenes, belovedFrom early childhood, and endeared by thoughtsOf warm affection, only served to pierceHis breast with deeper pangs. In vain he soughtTo cast aside his sorrows and arouseThe slumbering energies of mind to snapThe gloomy bonds that fettered. Efforts vain,Attempts abortive, drove him forth at lengthAn exile from his country, in the searchOf unknown scenes, whose aspects new and strange,Could not recall dark visions of the pastTo fix them stronger on the memory.In foreign lands, mid mountain peaks sublimeAnd desolate rocks, he sought companionshipAnd soothing solace. Nature’s placid face,Her calm, her stillness, and her solitudesWrought with an healing influence. The songOf ancient bards, the clear historic page,Called forth his spirit as the years fled byFrom inward cankering. The face of man,The voice of friendship, and affection’s smileAgain had light for him. But in his heartThere was a hollowness, a fearful voidThat naught could fill. The power of love seemed gone,But yet his soul, yearned ardently for love,With unquenched thirst. No more could Beauty’s smileOr her bright glances, kindle in his breastA living warmth. He would have given worldsTo feel its vital strength revive againThe life of his affections; and to pourTheir freshness on some sweet responsive heartLinked into one with his. This seemed deniedTo him for ever. But the disciplineOf sorrowful years, and agonising thoughts,Built up within a grandeur of the soulAnd purified his spirit. Feelings deep,Expansive views, and sympathies enlarged,Had hence a birth. More elevated thoughtsOf human life, and human destiny,With all its strange vicissitudes arose;A brighter faith in providence; and hopesMore calm and cheerful; lifting thought beyondTime’s narrow bounds; to see existence stretchFar on in realms immortal; and a faithThat pierced the clouds of evil, and beheldThe light of Goodness shining bright aboveWith vast extense of ray. A loftier lifeSeemed now within him, and a cheerfulnessIllumed his countenance; yet like some boldAnd dauntless hero, whose deep wounds were healed,He yet retained dark scars. Life now for himRevealed some pleasures; and its duties gaveIn their performance, solace and delight,But never more could he have hoped to gainThat freshness of the heart, that warmth of soulWhich glows in faithful love. He oft had soughtTo wake such life within him; but he stroveIn vain, in vain! Though years had passed away,He seemed as doomed to carry on through lifeA solitude of soul. Returning homeTo his paternal mansion, greetings kindAnd cheerful welcomes waited him. With firmDetermined spirit, he resolved to fillHis life with deeds of usefulness, and spreadSome happiness around. Whilst thus employedThe days grew brighter, and the hours fled byOn wings of cheerfulness. Upon the hearthDarkness yet brooded, and a shadow thereSat undisturbed, and, as he thought, for ever!Alas for human life, how oft its hopesAre vain and fruitless! yet the truth to addIts fears are oft as vain. Forebodings darkHave no fulfilment, and the things we dreadAre changed to joys and pleasures, like a nightOf storm and tempest that brings forth a mornOf radience and beauty. Thus employedIn deeds of charity; all thoughts of loveFor ever laid aside; Sir Arthur’s lifePassed smoothly onwards, as some stream whose course,Though clear and lovely, is o’erhung with shadeOf forest boughs, and feels not the full warmthOf glowing glorious day. As oft a turnAbrupt and sudden brings the river forthAlong the open plain, a change as brightAwaited in his destiny. The hourOf restitution had arrived, and soon,Amidst the maidens beautiful and fairThat passed before him, moving not his heartTo deep pulsations, one, amidst the train,Lovely as moonlight on the summer sea,Awoke a mystic sympathy, and calledTo life renewed, the throbbings of his breast.Her form was beautiful, her eye was bright,And rosy blushings tinted o’er her cheekWith softest dyes. But yet the beauty thereSprang chiefly from the spirit, whose pure lightIllumined every feature. On her brow,Lofty and polished, intellect sat thronedIn mild dominion. Modesty’s fair beamsArrayed the countenance; and holy love,Benevolence, and purity of soul,Shone forth with living radiance, and threwCelestial lustre round her. Gentle, mild,And bland of manner, calmly she withdrewFrom observation like some pale spring flowerThat woos the lonely shade. Her aspect woreThe touch of sorrow past, that beautifiedAnd made it still more lovely; like the skyRevealing fairer hues when summer cloudsTo earth have fallen in refreshing rains.Her heart had known the depths of agony,And care and anguish. In that deadly strifeThe soul had conquered; and she stood on earthWith spirit chastened, purified, subdued,And strengthened by the conflict. Her light stepHad something saint-like, as, with upward look,She trod the earth; and her soft mellow voiceBore music in its tones, as rich and deepIn all its modulations, as if caughtFrom distant echoes of angelic song.How strange are human sympathies! and allThe subtle secret workings of the soulThat link us to each other. Oft we meetSome unknown being, and short converse givesA knowledge as of ages; then againLong years of converse cannot bring our mindsIn unison with others. We may liveIn friendship, kindness, gentle amity,But yet our hearts are conscious of a powerPreventing inmost union. This is seenOft in the intercourse of man with man;But still more oft, though not less wonderful,Of man with woman; chiefly where the loveIs pure and perfect, from the inmost mind.Two beings now, whose spirits were preparedFor union with each other—though each thoughtSuch thing could never be—together met,And scarce had met before they felt withinAn inward prompting, instinct of the soul,That their two lives were destined to run onIn one united course. Passion for themHad lost its fiery power and heedless rage,And burnt with steady flame. Like summer mornFrom rosy twilight, with expansion calm,Unfolding into day, such was the courseOf their unsullied love. Their hands were pledgedWith hopeful promise, ’ere few moons had passed;And ’ere the seasons once had circled round,Before the altar of yon village church,Fraught with old memories of wedded love,The happy pair confirmed their truthful vowsWith sacred sanction. Joyous was the dayThrough the glad village, and the ancient HallWas filled with loud rejoicings. All things woreAn aspect of rich promise, e’en the sky,As if in sympathy, shone forth with lightMore clear and radiant. The early sunRose with keen splendour, and at eve he setIn pomp of gold and crimson. Fleecy clouds,With rainbow colours, graced the burnished vaultOf heaven’s cerulean azure. Day declinedIn hues prophetic of succeeding daysAs fair and bright, and sweetly shadowed forthAs by an omen, calmer life had dawnedAnd happier seasons for that wedded pair.We may grow old in heart, ’ere old in years,And share age-wisdom, ’ere its glory-crownOf hoary hairs hath sanctified the brow.Whatever stirs the inmost depths of soul,Arousing thought and feeling, calling forthLife’s strongest passions, rearing into strengthAll free-born energies, more swiftly bringsA full maturity than passing timeAnd common life experience. Thus were taughtThese inmates of the Hall; and thus had learnedTo look on life with more discerning eye,Regarding its true aims, its happiness,And noblest objects. They had felt and foundEarth’s purest pleasures, dwell in social loveAnd sweet serenities of home, and notIn gaudy pomp and pageantry and show.Hence with united aim they sought to rearTo loftier growth each faculty and power,Each thought and feeling that could beautify,Enrich and sanctify the homely hearth.The joys of wealth, its dignity and powerWere not despised. The grandeur it confersHad due appreciation; but the strengthIt lends the hand to scatter blessing roundWas thought its noblest privilege. To give,With generous freedom to the mild demandOf true necessity, was deemed delight;But not to scatter with a thoughtless handIn very wantonness of teeming wealth,And think such bounty charity. They knewThe richest benefit their aid could give,The most enduring, most replete with joyAnd noble independence, was the meansTo all who sought their aid and sustenance,To help themselves, and by their native powerRear their own weal. Such prudent practice spreadThat peace and comfort, cheerfulness and joyAmidst the peasants, and around their homesThrew comliness and beauty; whilst it gaveA richer harvest for the scattered seedOf generous gift, and made a little wealthProduce more goodness and true happiness,Than fortunes lavished with imprudent zealAnd indiscreet deficiency of thought.Sir Arthur had just passed the middle termOf “three score years and ten,” when full of hopeRenewed, and cheerful thought, with joy he ledHis fair bride from the altar. Every day,As time rolled on, gave precious proof that hopeWas not unfounded. Brighter grew each hourOf his expanding life, whilst now he foundThe strength of purpose, and the joy of heartA kindred spirit gives; as thought with thought,And feeling with deep feeling, swiftly roseWith sweet coincidence in either breast.And thus their path of life ran smoothly onUnvaried in direction, like a streamWhose waters pure had hitherto been ledWithin two separate channels; but anonIn peaceful union joining, henceforth passStraight onwards o’er some sunny, flowery plain,To mingle with the ocean. Not that lifeFor them was destitute of cares and tearsAnd piercing sorrows; but those fearful pangs,That tear the heart, and lacerate the soul,No more were theirs; and having known of such,And borne with resignation, fortitude,And hopeful patience, now the lesser ills,The common pains of life, struck not so deepNor with so fell a shock, as arrows glanceAside from sturdy breasts in armour cased,And shake not by impinging. Round the hearthTheir richest joys were clustered. Oft at eve,In converse sweet, enriched by love’s dear tones,The hours fled gladly by, as on the wingsOf woodland birds rejoicing. Now the museOf history would unfold her living pageAnd make the past the present; and anonSome work of fiction, writ with moral aim,Would stir their spirits, as with truthfulnessIt shewed the workings of the human heartAnd uttered wisdom whilst it gave delight.Full oft the music of the poet’s pageWould spring to life again: his numbers sweetTranslated into vocal harmony, and thoughtsTranscendent, eloquent, impassioned, bright,Revealed by living lips. Thus noble mindsOf bygone ages, or of modern date,Moulded their spirits to a lofter thoughtAnd more exalted feeling. Kindled thusIn kindly concert, to like sympathiesAnd deep emotions, their united heartsGrew to more strict similitude, and beatMore perfect in their unison. A bliss,So calm and sweet, so purely of the soul,
Which here prevails, and which has risen upLike some rich harvest ’neath the fostering careOf such a parent, whose example spokeMore loudly than his precepts. But ere this,A few quick sketches, of the chief eventsThat marked his life, and helped to mould its form,Shall now be made—though feeble to portrayThe bright reality, or give life and formTo inward workings of the subtil mind.Sir Arthur was the sole surviving childOf him whose name he bears. The other sonsAnd infant daughters passed away from earthLike fruit-tree blossoms, beautiful and briefIn their career. The tablets in the church,Recording ancestry through ages past,Record as briefly the short time betwixtTheir birth and death. Thus he alone was leftThe living centre, where the fervent loveOf two fond parents, could condense its rays.From budding infancy, the tender careAnd sweet affection of a mother’s breast,Filled his young heart with tenderness. In youthA father’s wish, and more ambitious loveGave each advantage, and secured each meansThat could advance in life. A home so fraughtWith kind indulgence, and where every wishWithin the bounds of reason was fulfilledAlmost as soon as framed was not a schoolBest fitted to prepare an active mind,To struggle boldly with the ills of life,And combat with its evils. But their loveRose higher in its grade, than that which thinksAlone of ease and pleasure and delight.It far preferred a future happinessTo present joy; and sterling moral worth,With intellectual wealth, and mental strength,As man’s chief earthly good. And hence it cameThat when his young mind had imbibed at homeEnnobling principles and pious thoughtsTo give it strength, their faithful love forewentThe pleasure of his presence to secureThe sterner discipline of school, and bringThose precepts into action. With an eyeOf keenest vigilance, and heart of care,They watched his progress, and with rich delightBeheld the fruits of their unwearied loveSwell into promise. Here he learned to feel,As one amongst a many, and to knowThe limits of his rights, and thence regardThe rights of others. Being much belovedAmongst his playmates, for a truthful heart,An amiable temper, and due skillIn many boyish sports; to which was joinedInventive talent, ingenuity,Mechanic art, by which was aptly framed,Things strange and curious, and thus he gainedA fame for intellect, and soon becameA leader of his fellows, whilst his daysPassed on in peace and happiness serene.When youth was verging into man, he wentTo college, that severer discipline,And study more intense, might build his mindIn knowledge, strength, and vigour. Honours dueWere soon awarded, and he home returnedWell nurtured to take part in public life,And serve the state whene’er it might require.The time of leisure had employment dueIn lighter studies, caring the estate,And welcome visits to the nobles round,That ever won such friendship and esteemAs time could not revoke. Amid the fair,The lovely and the beautiful, to himOne shone more lovely, fair, and beautifulThan all the rest; as shines the evening starAbove the brightness of the ether round.Wealth, station, grandeur, shed their gifts on herAnd all their rich endowments. In her eyeThere beamed the light of pure and gentle love,Whilst in her heart the modest virtues dweltCalm, soft and feminine; a woman she,“A perfect woman”—one whose form of soulWas framed for union with the heart of manTo be its solace, to restore its strengthWhen wearied with the world; to pour the oilOf rich affection on the wounded soul,To heal the spirit, to revive the mind,And with angelic ministrings restoreTo life and health again. Such sway when reignThe storms of trial and adversity,But through the calm and balmy days of life,To make his home a temple, and his hearthAn altar, where for ever glowing bright,The flame of gentle and enduring loveSheds its clear beams around, and burning fairPoints sweetly up to heaven. When first his eyeBeheld this loveliness, he felt withinA new life waken, and the life gone bySeemed but a heavy dream. Bright hopes, glad thoughtsAnd richest feelings stirred within his breastIn joyous tumult. Solitary hours,And woodland musings, nursed the passion sweet,Until that Being had become the starOf his life’s destiny. In hope, in doubt,In strange conflicting turbulence of soul,He sought, he sued, he won. One blushing wordOf sweet consent from her pure modest lipsTurned all to peace again, and more than peace,To ecstacy and rapture! Earth seemed changedTo paradise, and heaven above him shoneWith brighter radiance. Happy fled the hours,All swiftly bringing in their golden trainTheir brightest and their best, the hour to sealThis bliss for ever his. The bridal wreath,The fair attire, the pure attendant maids,And all the pomp and pageantry that tellsThe joy and gladness that awaits the bond,And consummation of a holy love,Were each prepared. When ah! the fearful changeAwaiting mortal destinies! A cloudSpread its black shadow o’er this sunny scene,And from its bosom, thunder-charged, sent forthThe shaft of death! A sudden illness seizedThe young and beautiful. Her bridal trainWept o’er her bier. And he who should have ledA bride in triumph from the altar, strewedSad flowers on Ellen’s grave, and with a griefTearless, consuming, in its mighty strength,Himself seemed death-struck. Agony intense,Dark desolation of the inmost soul,And dread prostration of its sympathiesHe long endured. The light of life to himAppeared for ever gone; the glorious earthBereft of all its beauties. Cheerless, lone,He felt as in a desert; naught in lifeCould win his spirit to activity,And social links seemed severed. Soon againHis footsteps rested on the gloomy vergeOf the dark sepulchre. The voice of deathCalled that fond parent, who with gentle loveHad nurtured his weak infancy, and she,With heavenly meekness, listened to the call,And softly passed from life. He who had satBeside the self-same hearth, when auburn hairCurled round her brow, till now bright silver braidsAdorned her aged forehead, missed the look,The fair, the placid look of time-tried loveIllumining his home, and though his soulHeld calmest resignation, yet he pinedWith secret longing to rejoin in heavenShe who had been an angel on the earth,In purity and gentleness. The sunHad scarcely circled round the seasons ereHis spirit’s prayer was answered, and he seemedTo melt from time into eternity,So peaceful was his end. Thus left alone,And of all nearest earthly ties bereaved,A double desolation, cast its gloomOn Arthur’s wounded heart. Though wealth was his,Titles and honours, they retained no charmTo soothe his broken spirit. In the primeOf early manhood, just emerged from youthWhen life is full of promise, life to himHad scarce a promise left. Home scenes, belovedFrom early childhood, and endeared by thoughtsOf warm affection, only served to pierceHis breast with deeper pangs. In vain he soughtTo cast aside his sorrows and arouseThe slumbering energies of mind to snapThe gloomy bonds that fettered. Efforts vain,Attempts abortive, drove him forth at lengthAn exile from his country, in the searchOf unknown scenes, whose aspects new and strange,Could not recall dark visions of the pastTo fix them stronger on the memory.In foreign lands, mid mountain peaks sublimeAnd desolate rocks, he sought companionshipAnd soothing solace. Nature’s placid face,Her calm, her stillness, and her solitudesWrought with an healing influence. The songOf ancient bards, the clear historic page,Called forth his spirit as the years fled byFrom inward cankering. The face of man,The voice of friendship, and affection’s smileAgain had light for him. But in his heartThere was a hollowness, a fearful voidThat naught could fill. The power of love seemed gone,But yet his soul, yearned ardently for love,With unquenched thirst. No more could Beauty’s smileOr her bright glances, kindle in his breastA living warmth. He would have given worldsTo feel its vital strength revive againThe life of his affections; and to pourTheir freshness on some sweet responsive heartLinked into one with his. This seemed deniedTo him for ever. But the disciplineOf sorrowful years, and agonising thoughts,Built up within a grandeur of the soulAnd purified his spirit. Feelings deep,Expansive views, and sympathies enlarged,Had hence a birth. More elevated thoughtsOf human life, and human destiny,With all its strange vicissitudes arose;A brighter faith in providence; and hopesMore calm and cheerful; lifting thought beyondTime’s narrow bounds; to see existence stretchFar on in realms immortal; and a faithThat pierced the clouds of evil, and beheldThe light of Goodness shining bright aboveWith vast extense of ray. A loftier lifeSeemed now within him, and a cheerfulnessIllumed his countenance; yet like some boldAnd dauntless hero, whose deep wounds were healed,He yet retained dark scars. Life now for himRevealed some pleasures; and its duties gaveIn their performance, solace and delight,But never more could he have hoped to gainThat freshness of the heart, that warmth of soulWhich glows in faithful love. He oft had soughtTo wake such life within him; but he stroveIn vain, in vain! Though years had passed away,He seemed as doomed to carry on through lifeA solitude of soul. Returning homeTo his paternal mansion, greetings kindAnd cheerful welcomes waited him. With firmDetermined spirit, he resolved to fillHis life with deeds of usefulness, and spreadSome happiness around. Whilst thus employedThe days grew brighter, and the hours fled byOn wings of cheerfulness. Upon the hearthDarkness yet brooded, and a shadow thereSat undisturbed, and, as he thought, for ever!Alas for human life, how oft its hopesAre vain and fruitless! yet the truth to addIts fears are oft as vain. Forebodings darkHave no fulfilment, and the things we dreadAre changed to joys and pleasures, like a nightOf storm and tempest that brings forth a mornOf radience and beauty. Thus employedIn deeds of charity; all thoughts of loveFor ever laid aside; Sir Arthur’s lifePassed smoothly onwards, as some stream whose course,Though clear and lovely, is o’erhung with shadeOf forest boughs, and feels not the full warmthOf glowing glorious day. As oft a turnAbrupt and sudden brings the river forthAlong the open plain, a change as brightAwaited in his destiny. The hourOf restitution had arrived, and soon,Amidst the maidens beautiful and fairThat passed before him, moving not his heartTo deep pulsations, one, amidst the train,Lovely as moonlight on the summer sea,Awoke a mystic sympathy, and calledTo life renewed, the throbbings of his breast.Her form was beautiful, her eye was bright,And rosy blushings tinted o’er her cheekWith softest dyes. But yet the beauty thereSprang chiefly from the spirit, whose pure lightIllumined every feature. On her brow,Lofty and polished, intellect sat thronedIn mild dominion. Modesty’s fair beamsArrayed the countenance; and holy love,Benevolence, and purity of soul,Shone forth with living radiance, and threwCelestial lustre round her. Gentle, mild,And bland of manner, calmly she withdrewFrom observation like some pale spring flowerThat woos the lonely shade. Her aspect woreThe touch of sorrow past, that beautifiedAnd made it still more lovely; like the skyRevealing fairer hues when summer cloudsTo earth have fallen in refreshing rains.Her heart had known the depths of agony,And care and anguish. In that deadly strifeThe soul had conquered; and she stood on earthWith spirit chastened, purified, subdued,And strengthened by the conflict. Her light stepHad something saint-like, as, with upward look,She trod the earth; and her soft mellow voiceBore music in its tones, as rich and deepIn all its modulations, as if caughtFrom distant echoes of angelic song.How strange are human sympathies! and allThe subtle secret workings of the soulThat link us to each other. Oft we meetSome unknown being, and short converse givesA knowledge as of ages; then againLong years of converse cannot bring our mindsIn unison with others. We may liveIn friendship, kindness, gentle amity,But yet our hearts are conscious of a powerPreventing inmost union. This is seenOft in the intercourse of man with man;But still more oft, though not less wonderful,Of man with woman; chiefly where the loveIs pure and perfect, from the inmost mind.Two beings now, whose spirits were preparedFor union with each other—though each thoughtSuch thing could never be—together met,And scarce had met before they felt withinAn inward prompting, instinct of the soul,That their two lives were destined to run onIn one united course. Passion for themHad lost its fiery power and heedless rage,And burnt with steady flame. Like summer mornFrom rosy twilight, with expansion calm,Unfolding into day, such was the courseOf their unsullied love. Their hands were pledgedWith hopeful promise, ’ere few moons had passed;And ’ere the seasons once had circled round,Before the altar of yon village church,Fraught with old memories of wedded love,The happy pair confirmed their truthful vowsWith sacred sanction. Joyous was the dayThrough the glad village, and the ancient HallWas filled with loud rejoicings. All things woreAn aspect of rich promise, e’en the sky,As if in sympathy, shone forth with lightMore clear and radiant. The early sunRose with keen splendour, and at eve he setIn pomp of gold and crimson. Fleecy clouds,With rainbow colours, graced the burnished vaultOf heaven’s cerulean azure. Day declinedIn hues prophetic of succeeding daysAs fair and bright, and sweetly shadowed forthAs by an omen, calmer life had dawnedAnd happier seasons for that wedded pair.We may grow old in heart, ’ere old in years,And share age-wisdom, ’ere its glory-crownOf hoary hairs hath sanctified the brow.Whatever stirs the inmost depths of soul,Arousing thought and feeling, calling forthLife’s strongest passions, rearing into strengthAll free-born energies, more swiftly bringsA full maturity than passing timeAnd common life experience. Thus were taughtThese inmates of the Hall; and thus had learnedTo look on life with more discerning eye,Regarding its true aims, its happiness,And noblest objects. They had felt and foundEarth’s purest pleasures, dwell in social loveAnd sweet serenities of home, and notIn gaudy pomp and pageantry and show.Hence with united aim they sought to rearTo loftier growth each faculty and power,Each thought and feeling that could beautify,Enrich and sanctify the homely hearth.The joys of wealth, its dignity and powerWere not despised. The grandeur it confersHad due appreciation; but the strengthIt lends the hand to scatter blessing roundWas thought its noblest privilege. To give,With generous freedom to the mild demandOf true necessity, was deemed delight;But not to scatter with a thoughtless handIn very wantonness of teeming wealth,And think such bounty charity. They knewThe richest benefit their aid could give,The most enduring, most replete with joyAnd noble independence, was the meansTo all who sought their aid and sustenance,To help themselves, and by their native powerRear their own weal. Such prudent practice spreadThat peace and comfort, cheerfulness and joyAmidst the peasants, and around their homesThrew comliness and beauty; whilst it gaveA richer harvest for the scattered seedOf generous gift, and made a little wealthProduce more goodness and true happiness,Than fortunes lavished with imprudent zealAnd indiscreet deficiency of thought.Sir Arthur had just passed the middle termOf “three score years and ten,” when full of hopeRenewed, and cheerful thought, with joy he ledHis fair bride from the altar. Every day,As time rolled on, gave precious proof that hopeWas not unfounded. Brighter grew each hourOf his expanding life, whilst now he foundThe strength of purpose, and the joy of heartA kindred spirit gives; as thought with thought,And feeling with deep feeling, swiftly roseWith sweet coincidence in either breast.And thus their path of life ran smoothly onUnvaried in direction, like a streamWhose waters pure had hitherto been ledWithin two separate channels; but anonIn peaceful union joining, henceforth passStraight onwards o’er some sunny, flowery plain,To mingle with the ocean. Not that lifeFor them was destitute of cares and tearsAnd piercing sorrows; but those fearful pangs,That tear the heart, and lacerate the soul,No more were theirs; and having known of such,And borne with resignation, fortitude,And hopeful patience, now the lesser ills,The common pains of life, struck not so deepNor with so fell a shock, as arrows glanceAside from sturdy breasts in armour cased,And shake not by impinging. Round the hearthTheir richest joys were clustered. Oft at eve,In converse sweet, enriched by love’s dear tones,The hours fled gladly by, as on the wingsOf woodland birds rejoicing. Now the museOf history would unfold her living pageAnd make the past the present; and anonSome work of fiction, writ with moral aim,Would stir their spirits, as with truthfulnessIt shewed the workings of the human heartAnd uttered wisdom whilst it gave delight.Full oft the music of the poet’s pageWould spring to life again: his numbers sweetTranslated into vocal harmony, and thoughtsTranscendent, eloquent, impassioned, bright,Revealed by living lips. Thus noble mindsOf bygone ages, or of modern date,Moulded their spirits to a lofter thoughtAnd more exalted feeling. Kindled thusIn kindly concert, to like sympathiesAnd deep emotions, their united heartsGrew to more strict similitude, and beatMore perfect in their unison. A bliss,So calm and sweet, so purely of the soul,
Which here prevails, and which has risen upLike some rich harvest ’neath the fostering careOf such a parent, whose example spokeMore loudly than his precepts. But ere this,A few quick sketches, of the chief eventsThat marked his life, and helped to mould its form,Shall now be made—though feeble to portrayThe bright reality, or give life and formTo inward workings of the subtil mind.Sir Arthur was the sole surviving childOf him whose name he bears. The other sonsAnd infant daughters passed away from earthLike fruit-tree blossoms, beautiful and briefIn their career. The tablets in the church,Recording ancestry through ages past,Record as briefly the short time betwixtTheir birth and death. Thus he alone was leftThe living centre, where the fervent loveOf two fond parents, could condense its rays.From budding infancy, the tender careAnd sweet affection of a mother’s breast,Filled his young heart with tenderness. In youthA father’s wish, and more ambitious loveGave each advantage, and secured each meansThat could advance in life. A home so fraughtWith kind indulgence, and where every wishWithin the bounds of reason was fulfilledAlmost as soon as framed was not a schoolBest fitted to prepare an active mind,To struggle boldly with the ills of life,And combat with its evils. But their loveRose higher in its grade, than that which thinksAlone of ease and pleasure and delight.It far preferred a future happinessTo present joy; and sterling moral worth,With intellectual wealth, and mental strength,As man’s chief earthly good. And hence it cameThat when his young mind had imbibed at homeEnnobling principles and pious thoughtsTo give it strength, their faithful love forewentThe pleasure of his presence to secureThe sterner discipline of school, and bringThose precepts into action. With an eyeOf keenest vigilance, and heart of care,They watched his progress, and with rich delightBeheld the fruits of their unwearied loveSwell into promise. Here he learned to feel,As one amongst a many, and to knowThe limits of his rights, and thence regardThe rights of others. Being much belovedAmongst his playmates, for a truthful heart,An amiable temper, and due skillIn many boyish sports; to which was joinedInventive talent, ingenuity,Mechanic art, by which was aptly framed,Things strange and curious, and thus he gainedA fame for intellect, and soon becameA leader of his fellows, whilst his daysPassed on in peace and happiness serene.When youth was verging into man, he wentTo college, that severer discipline,And study more intense, might build his mindIn knowledge, strength, and vigour. Honours dueWere soon awarded, and he home returnedWell nurtured to take part in public life,And serve the state whene’er it might require.The time of leisure had employment dueIn lighter studies, caring the estate,And welcome visits to the nobles round,That ever won such friendship and esteemAs time could not revoke. Amid the fair,The lovely and the beautiful, to himOne shone more lovely, fair, and beautifulThan all the rest; as shines the evening starAbove the brightness of the ether round.Wealth, station, grandeur, shed their gifts on herAnd all their rich endowments. In her eyeThere beamed the light of pure and gentle love,Whilst in her heart the modest virtues dweltCalm, soft and feminine; a woman she,“A perfect woman”—one whose form of soulWas framed for union with the heart of manTo be its solace, to restore its strengthWhen wearied with the world; to pour the oilOf rich affection on the wounded soul,To heal the spirit, to revive the mind,And with angelic ministrings restoreTo life and health again. Such sway when reignThe storms of trial and adversity,But through the calm and balmy days of life,To make his home a temple, and his hearthAn altar, where for ever glowing bright,The flame of gentle and enduring loveSheds its clear beams around, and burning fairPoints sweetly up to heaven. When first his eyeBeheld this loveliness, he felt withinA new life waken, and the life gone bySeemed but a heavy dream. Bright hopes, glad thoughtsAnd richest feelings stirred within his breastIn joyous tumult. Solitary hours,And woodland musings, nursed the passion sweet,Until that Being had become the starOf his life’s destiny. In hope, in doubt,In strange conflicting turbulence of soul,He sought, he sued, he won. One blushing wordOf sweet consent from her pure modest lipsTurned all to peace again, and more than peace,To ecstacy and rapture! Earth seemed changedTo paradise, and heaven above him shoneWith brighter radiance. Happy fled the hours,All swiftly bringing in their golden trainTheir brightest and their best, the hour to sealThis bliss for ever his. The bridal wreath,The fair attire, the pure attendant maids,And all the pomp and pageantry that tellsThe joy and gladness that awaits the bond,And consummation of a holy love,Were each prepared. When ah! the fearful changeAwaiting mortal destinies! A cloudSpread its black shadow o’er this sunny scene,And from its bosom, thunder-charged, sent forthThe shaft of death! A sudden illness seizedThe young and beautiful. Her bridal trainWept o’er her bier. And he who should have ledA bride in triumph from the altar, strewedSad flowers on Ellen’s grave, and with a griefTearless, consuming, in its mighty strength,Himself seemed death-struck. Agony intense,Dark desolation of the inmost soul,And dread prostration of its sympathiesHe long endured. The light of life to himAppeared for ever gone; the glorious earthBereft of all its beauties. Cheerless, lone,He felt as in a desert; naught in lifeCould win his spirit to activity,And social links seemed severed. Soon againHis footsteps rested on the gloomy vergeOf the dark sepulchre. The voice of deathCalled that fond parent, who with gentle loveHad nurtured his weak infancy, and she,With heavenly meekness, listened to the call,And softly passed from life. He who had satBeside the self-same hearth, when auburn hairCurled round her brow, till now bright silver braidsAdorned her aged forehead, missed the look,The fair, the placid look of time-tried loveIllumining his home, and though his soulHeld calmest resignation, yet he pinedWith secret longing to rejoin in heavenShe who had been an angel on the earth,In purity and gentleness. The sunHad scarcely circled round the seasons ereHis spirit’s prayer was answered, and he seemedTo melt from time into eternity,So peaceful was his end. Thus left alone,And of all nearest earthly ties bereaved,A double desolation, cast its gloomOn Arthur’s wounded heart. Though wealth was his,Titles and honours, they retained no charmTo soothe his broken spirit. In the primeOf early manhood, just emerged from youthWhen life is full of promise, life to himHad scarce a promise left. Home scenes, belovedFrom early childhood, and endeared by thoughtsOf warm affection, only served to pierceHis breast with deeper pangs. In vain he soughtTo cast aside his sorrows and arouseThe slumbering energies of mind to snapThe gloomy bonds that fettered. Efforts vain,Attempts abortive, drove him forth at lengthAn exile from his country, in the searchOf unknown scenes, whose aspects new and strange,Could not recall dark visions of the pastTo fix them stronger on the memory.In foreign lands, mid mountain peaks sublimeAnd desolate rocks, he sought companionshipAnd soothing solace. Nature’s placid face,Her calm, her stillness, and her solitudesWrought with an healing influence. The songOf ancient bards, the clear historic page,Called forth his spirit as the years fled byFrom inward cankering. The face of man,The voice of friendship, and affection’s smileAgain had light for him. But in his heartThere was a hollowness, a fearful voidThat naught could fill. The power of love seemed gone,But yet his soul, yearned ardently for love,With unquenched thirst. No more could Beauty’s smileOr her bright glances, kindle in his breastA living warmth. He would have given worldsTo feel its vital strength revive againThe life of his affections; and to pourTheir freshness on some sweet responsive heartLinked into one with his. This seemed deniedTo him for ever. But the disciplineOf sorrowful years, and agonising thoughts,Built up within a grandeur of the soulAnd purified his spirit. Feelings deep,Expansive views, and sympathies enlarged,Had hence a birth. More elevated thoughtsOf human life, and human destiny,With all its strange vicissitudes arose;A brighter faith in providence; and hopesMore calm and cheerful; lifting thought beyondTime’s narrow bounds; to see existence stretchFar on in realms immortal; and a faithThat pierced the clouds of evil, and beheldThe light of Goodness shining bright aboveWith vast extense of ray. A loftier lifeSeemed now within him, and a cheerfulnessIllumed his countenance; yet like some boldAnd dauntless hero, whose deep wounds were healed,He yet retained dark scars. Life now for himRevealed some pleasures; and its duties gaveIn their performance, solace and delight,But never more could he have hoped to gainThat freshness of the heart, that warmth of soulWhich glows in faithful love. He oft had soughtTo wake such life within him; but he stroveIn vain, in vain! Though years had passed away,He seemed as doomed to carry on through lifeA solitude of soul. Returning homeTo his paternal mansion, greetings kindAnd cheerful welcomes waited him. With firmDetermined spirit, he resolved to fillHis life with deeds of usefulness, and spreadSome happiness around. Whilst thus employedThe days grew brighter, and the hours fled byOn wings of cheerfulness. Upon the hearthDarkness yet brooded, and a shadow thereSat undisturbed, and, as he thought, for ever!Alas for human life, how oft its hopesAre vain and fruitless! yet the truth to addIts fears are oft as vain. Forebodings darkHave no fulfilment, and the things we dreadAre changed to joys and pleasures, like a nightOf storm and tempest that brings forth a mornOf radience and beauty. Thus employedIn deeds of charity; all thoughts of loveFor ever laid aside; Sir Arthur’s lifePassed smoothly onwards, as some stream whose course,Though clear and lovely, is o’erhung with shadeOf forest boughs, and feels not the full warmthOf glowing glorious day. As oft a turnAbrupt and sudden brings the river forthAlong the open plain, a change as brightAwaited in his destiny. The hourOf restitution had arrived, and soon,Amidst the maidens beautiful and fairThat passed before him, moving not his heartTo deep pulsations, one, amidst the train,Lovely as moonlight on the summer sea,Awoke a mystic sympathy, and calledTo life renewed, the throbbings of his breast.Her form was beautiful, her eye was bright,And rosy blushings tinted o’er her cheekWith softest dyes. But yet the beauty thereSprang chiefly from the spirit, whose pure lightIllumined every feature. On her brow,Lofty and polished, intellect sat thronedIn mild dominion. Modesty’s fair beamsArrayed the countenance; and holy love,Benevolence, and purity of soul,Shone forth with living radiance, and threwCelestial lustre round her. Gentle, mild,And bland of manner, calmly she withdrewFrom observation like some pale spring flowerThat woos the lonely shade. Her aspect woreThe touch of sorrow past, that beautifiedAnd made it still more lovely; like the skyRevealing fairer hues when summer cloudsTo earth have fallen in refreshing rains.Her heart had known the depths of agony,And care and anguish. In that deadly strifeThe soul had conquered; and she stood on earthWith spirit chastened, purified, subdued,And strengthened by the conflict. Her light stepHad something saint-like, as, with upward look,She trod the earth; and her soft mellow voiceBore music in its tones, as rich and deepIn all its modulations, as if caughtFrom distant echoes of angelic song.How strange are human sympathies! and allThe subtle secret workings of the soulThat link us to each other. Oft we meetSome unknown being, and short converse givesA knowledge as of ages; then againLong years of converse cannot bring our mindsIn unison with others. We may liveIn friendship, kindness, gentle amity,But yet our hearts are conscious of a powerPreventing inmost union. This is seenOft in the intercourse of man with man;But still more oft, though not less wonderful,Of man with woman; chiefly where the loveIs pure and perfect, from the inmost mind.Two beings now, whose spirits were preparedFor union with each other—though each thoughtSuch thing could never be—together met,And scarce had met before they felt withinAn inward prompting, instinct of the soul,That their two lives were destined to run onIn one united course. Passion for themHad lost its fiery power and heedless rage,And burnt with steady flame. Like summer mornFrom rosy twilight, with expansion calm,Unfolding into day, such was the courseOf their unsullied love. Their hands were pledgedWith hopeful promise, ’ere few moons had passed;And ’ere the seasons once had circled round,Before the altar of yon village church,Fraught with old memories of wedded love,The happy pair confirmed their truthful vowsWith sacred sanction. Joyous was the dayThrough the glad village, and the ancient HallWas filled with loud rejoicings. All things woreAn aspect of rich promise, e’en the sky,As if in sympathy, shone forth with lightMore clear and radiant. The early sunRose with keen splendour, and at eve he setIn pomp of gold and crimson. Fleecy clouds,With rainbow colours, graced the burnished vaultOf heaven’s cerulean azure. Day declinedIn hues prophetic of succeeding daysAs fair and bright, and sweetly shadowed forthAs by an omen, calmer life had dawnedAnd happier seasons for that wedded pair.We may grow old in heart, ’ere old in years,And share age-wisdom, ’ere its glory-crownOf hoary hairs hath sanctified the brow.Whatever stirs the inmost depths of soul,Arousing thought and feeling, calling forthLife’s strongest passions, rearing into strengthAll free-born energies, more swiftly bringsA full maturity than passing timeAnd common life experience. Thus were taughtThese inmates of the Hall; and thus had learnedTo look on life with more discerning eye,Regarding its true aims, its happiness,And noblest objects. They had felt and foundEarth’s purest pleasures, dwell in social loveAnd sweet serenities of home, and notIn gaudy pomp and pageantry and show.Hence with united aim they sought to rearTo loftier growth each faculty and power,Each thought and feeling that could beautify,Enrich and sanctify the homely hearth.The joys of wealth, its dignity and powerWere not despised. The grandeur it confersHad due appreciation; but the strengthIt lends the hand to scatter blessing roundWas thought its noblest privilege. To give,With generous freedom to the mild demandOf true necessity, was deemed delight;But not to scatter with a thoughtless handIn very wantonness of teeming wealth,And think such bounty charity. They knewThe richest benefit their aid could give,The most enduring, most replete with joyAnd noble independence, was the meansTo all who sought their aid and sustenance,To help themselves, and by their native powerRear their own weal. Such prudent practice spreadThat peace and comfort, cheerfulness and joyAmidst the peasants, and around their homesThrew comliness and beauty; whilst it gaveA richer harvest for the scattered seedOf generous gift, and made a little wealthProduce more goodness and true happiness,Than fortunes lavished with imprudent zealAnd indiscreet deficiency of thought.Sir Arthur had just passed the middle termOf “three score years and ten,” when full of hopeRenewed, and cheerful thought, with joy he ledHis fair bride from the altar. Every day,As time rolled on, gave precious proof that hopeWas not unfounded. Brighter grew each hourOf his expanding life, whilst now he foundThe strength of purpose, and the joy of heartA kindred spirit gives; as thought with thought,And feeling with deep feeling, swiftly roseWith sweet coincidence in either breast.And thus their path of life ran smoothly onUnvaried in direction, like a streamWhose waters pure had hitherto been ledWithin two separate channels; but anonIn peaceful union joining, henceforth passStraight onwards o’er some sunny, flowery plain,To mingle with the ocean. Not that lifeFor them was destitute of cares and tearsAnd piercing sorrows; but those fearful pangs,That tear the heart, and lacerate the soul,No more were theirs; and having known of such,And borne with resignation, fortitude,And hopeful patience, now the lesser ills,The common pains of life, struck not so deepNor with so fell a shock, as arrows glanceAside from sturdy breasts in armour cased,And shake not by impinging. Round the hearthTheir richest joys were clustered. Oft at eve,In converse sweet, enriched by love’s dear tones,The hours fled gladly by, as on the wingsOf woodland birds rejoicing. Now the museOf history would unfold her living pageAnd make the past the present; and anonSome work of fiction, writ with moral aim,Would stir their spirits, as with truthfulnessIt shewed the workings of the human heartAnd uttered wisdom whilst it gave delight.Full oft the music of the poet’s pageWould spring to life again: his numbers sweetTranslated into vocal harmony, and thoughtsTranscendent, eloquent, impassioned, bright,Revealed by living lips. Thus noble mindsOf bygone ages, or of modern date,Moulded their spirits to a lofter thoughtAnd more exalted feeling. Kindled thusIn kindly concert, to like sympathiesAnd deep emotions, their united heartsGrew to more strict similitude, and beatMore perfect in their unison. A bliss,So calm and sweet, so purely of the soul,
Which here prevails, and which has risen up
Like some rich harvest ’neath the fostering care
Of such a parent, whose example spoke
More loudly than his precepts. But ere this,
A few quick sketches, of the chief events
That marked his life, and helped to mould its form,
Shall now be made—though feeble to portray
The bright reality, or give life and form
To inward workings of the subtil mind.
Sir Arthur was the sole surviving child
Of him whose name he bears. The other sons
And infant daughters passed away from earth
Like fruit-tree blossoms, beautiful and brief
In their career. The tablets in the church,
Recording ancestry through ages past,
Record as briefly the short time betwixt
Their birth and death. Thus he alone was left
The living centre, where the fervent love
Of two fond parents, could condense its rays.
From budding infancy, the tender care
And sweet affection of a mother’s breast,
Filled his young heart with tenderness. In youth
A father’s wish, and more ambitious love
Gave each advantage, and secured each means
That could advance in life. A home so fraught
With kind indulgence, and where every wish
Within the bounds of reason was fulfilled
Almost as soon as framed was not a school
Best fitted to prepare an active mind,
To struggle boldly with the ills of life,
And combat with its evils. But their love
Rose higher in its grade, than that which thinks
Alone of ease and pleasure and delight.
It far preferred a future happiness
To present joy; and sterling moral worth,
With intellectual wealth, and mental strength,
As man’s chief earthly good. And hence it came
That when his young mind had imbibed at home
Ennobling principles and pious thoughts
To give it strength, their faithful love forewent
The pleasure of his presence to secure
The sterner discipline of school, and bring
Those precepts into action. With an eye
Of keenest vigilance, and heart of care,
They watched his progress, and with rich delight
Beheld the fruits of their unwearied love
Swell into promise. Here he learned to feel,
As one amongst a many, and to know
The limits of his rights, and thence regard
The rights of others. Being much beloved
Amongst his playmates, for a truthful heart,
An amiable temper, and due skill
In many boyish sports; to which was joined
Inventive talent, ingenuity,
Mechanic art, by which was aptly framed,
Things strange and curious, and thus he gained
A fame for intellect, and soon became
A leader of his fellows, whilst his days
Passed on in peace and happiness serene.
When youth was verging into man, he went
To college, that severer discipline,
And study more intense, might build his mind
In knowledge, strength, and vigour. Honours due
Were soon awarded, and he home returned
Well nurtured to take part in public life,
And serve the state whene’er it might require.
The time of leisure had employment due
In lighter studies, caring the estate,
And welcome visits to the nobles round,
That ever won such friendship and esteem
As time could not revoke. Amid the fair,
The lovely and the beautiful, to him
One shone more lovely, fair, and beautiful
Than all the rest; as shines the evening star
Above the brightness of the ether round.
Wealth, station, grandeur, shed their gifts on her
And all their rich endowments. In her eye
There beamed the light of pure and gentle love,
Whilst in her heart the modest virtues dwelt
Calm, soft and feminine; a woman she,
“A perfect woman”—one whose form of soul
Was framed for union with the heart of man
To be its solace, to restore its strength
When wearied with the world; to pour the oil
Of rich affection on the wounded soul,
To heal the spirit, to revive the mind,
And with angelic ministrings restore
To life and health again. Such sway when reign
The storms of trial and adversity,
But through the calm and balmy days of life,
To make his home a temple, and his hearth
An altar, where for ever glowing bright,
The flame of gentle and enduring love
Sheds its clear beams around, and burning fair
Points sweetly up to heaven. When first his eye
Beheld this loveliness, he felt within
A new life waken, and the life gone by
Seemed but a heavy dream. Bright hopes, glad thoughts
And richest feelings stirred within his breast
In joyous tumult. Solitary hours,
And woodland musings, nursed the passion sweet,
Until that Being had become the star
Of his life’s destiny. In hope, in doubt,
In strange conflicting turbulence of soul,
He sought, he sued, he won. One blushing word
Of sweet consent from her pure modest lips
Turned all to peace again, and more than peace,
To ecstacy and rapture! Earth seemed changed
To paradise, and heaven above him shone
With brighter radiance. Happy fled the hours,
All swiftly bringing in their golden train
Their brightest and their best, the hour to seal
This bliss for ever his. The bridal wreath,
The fair attire, the pure attendant maids,
And all the pomp and pageantry that tells
The joy and gladness that awaits the bond,
And consummation of a holy love,
Were each prepared. When ah! the fearful change
Awaiting mortal destinies! A cloud
Spread its black shadow o’er this sunny scene,
And from its bosom, thunder-charged, sent forth
The shaft of death! A sudden illness seized
The young and beautiful. Her bridal train
Wept o’er her bier. And he who should have led
A bride in triumph from the altar, strewed
Sad flowers on Ellen’s grave, and with a grief
Tearless, consuming, in its mighty strength,
Himself seemed death-struck. Agony intense,
Dark desolation of the inmost soul,
And dread prostration of its sympathies
He long endured. The light of life to him
Appeared for ever gone; the glorious earth
Bereft of all its beauties. Cheerless, lone,
He felt as in a desert; naught in life
Could win his spirit to activity,
And social links seemed severed. Soon again
His footsteps rested on the gloomy verge
Of the dark sepulchre. The voice of death
Called that fond parent, who with gentle love
Had nurtured his weak infancy, and she,
With heavenly meekness, listened to the call,
And softly passed from life. He who had sat
Beside the self-same hearth, when auburn hair
Curled round her brow, till now bright silver braids
Adorned her aged forehead, missed the look,
The fair, the placid look of time-tried love
Illumining his home, and though his soul
Held calmest resignation, yet he pined
With secret longing to rejoin in heaven
She who had been an angel on the earth,
In purity and gentleness. The sun
Had scarcely circled round the seasons ere
His spirit’s prayer was answered, and he seemed
To melt from time into eternity,
So peaceful was his end. Thus left alone,
And of all nearest earthly ties bereaved,
A double desolation, cast its gloom
On Arthur’s wounded heart. Though wealth was his,
Titles and honours, they retained no charm
To soothe his broken spirit. In the prime
Of early manhood, just emerged from youth
When life is full of promise, life to him
Had scarce a promise left. Home scenes, beloved
From early childhood, and endeared by thoughts
Of warm affection, only served to pierce
His breast with deeper pangs. In vain he sought
To cast aside his sorrows and arouse
The slumbering energies of mind to snap
The gloomy bonds that fettered. Efforts vain,
Attempts abortive, drove him forth at length
An exile from his country, in the search
Of unknown scenes, whose aspects new and strange,
Could not recall dark visions of the past
To fix them stronger on the memory.
In foreign lands, mid mountain peaks sublime
And desolate rocks, he sought companionship
And soothing solace. Nature’s placid face,
Her calm, her stillness, and her solitudes
Wrought with an healing influence. The song
Of ancient bards, the clear historic page,
Called forth his spirit as the years fled by
From inward cankering. The face of man,
The voice of friendship, and affection’s smile
Again had light for him. But in his heart
There was a hollowness, a fearful void
That naught could fill. The power of love seemed gone,
But yet his soul, yearned ardently for love,
With unquenched thirst. No more could Beauty’s smile
Or her bright glances, kindle in his breast
A living warmth. He would have given worlds
To feel its vital strength revive again
The life of his affections; and to pour
Their freshness on some sweet responsive heart
Linked into one with his. This seemed denied
To him for ever. But the discipline
Of sorrowful years, and agonising thoughts,
Built up within a grandeur of the soul
And purified his spirit. Feelings deep,
Expansive views, and sympathies enlarged,
Had hence a birth. More elevated thoughts
Of human life, and human destiny,
With all its strange vicissitudes arose;
A brighter faith in providence; and hopes
More calm and cheerful; lifting thought beyond
Time’s narrow bounds; to see existence stretch
Far on in realms immortal; and a faith
That pierced the clouds of evil, and beheld
The light of Goodness shining bright above
With vast extense of ray. A loftier life
Seemed now within him, and a cheerfulness
Illumed his countenance; yet like some bold
And dauntless hero, whose deep wounds were healed,
He yet retained dark scars. Life now for him
Revealed some pleasures; and its duties gave
In their performance, solace and delight,
But never more could he have hoped to gain
That freshness of the heart, that warmth of soul
Which glows in faithful love. He oft had sought
To wake such life within him; but he strove
In vain, in vain! Though years had passed away,
He seemed as doomed to carry on through life
A solitude of soul. Returning home
To his paternal mansion, greetings kind
And cheerful welcomes waited him. With firm
Determined spirit, he resolved to fill
His life with deeds of usefulness, and spread
Some happiness around. Whilst thus employed
The days grew brighter, and the hours fled by
On wings of cheerfulness. Upon the hearth
Darkness yet brooded, and a shadow there
Sat undisturbed, and, as he thought, for ever!
Alas for human life, how oft its hopes
Are vain and fruitless! yet the truth to add
Its fears are oft as vain. Forebodings dark
Have no fulfilment, and the things we dread
Are changed to joys and pleasures, like a night
Of storm and tempest that brings forth a morn
Of radience and beauty. Thus employed
In deeds of charity; all thoughts of love
For ever laid aside; Sir Arthur’s life
Passed smoothly onwards, as some stream whose course,
Though clear and lovely, is o’erhung with shade
Of forest boughs, and feels not the full warmth
Of glowing glorious day. As oft a turn
Abrupt and sudden brings the river forth
Along the open plain, a change as bright
Awaited in his destiny. The hour
Of restitution had arrived, and soon,
Amidst the maidens beautiful and fair
That passed before him, moving not his heart
To deep pulsations, one, amidst the train,
Lovely as moonlight on the summer sea,
Awoke a mystic sympathy, and called
To life renewed, the throbbings of his breast.
Her form was beautiful, her eye was bright,
And rosy blushings tinted o’er her cheek
With softest dyes. But yet the beauty there
Sprang chiefly from the spirit, whose pure light
Illumined every feature. On her brow,
Lofty and polished, intellect sat throned
In mild dominion. Modesty’s fair beams
Arrayed the countenance; and holy love,
Benevolence, and purity of soul,
Shone forth with living radiance, and threw
Celestial lustre round her. Gentle, mild,
And bland of manner, calmly she withdrew
From observation like some pale spring flower
That woos the lonely shade. Her aspect wore
The touch of sorrow past, that beautified
And made it still more lovely; like the sky
Revealing fairer hues when summer clouds
To earth have fallen in refreshing rains.
Her heart had known the depths of agony,
And care and anguish. In that deadly strife
The soul had conquered; and she stood on earth
With spirit chastened, purified, subdued,
And strengthened by the conflict. Her light step
Had something saint-like, as, with upward look,
She trod the earth; and her soft mellow voice
Bore music in its tones, as rich and deep
In all its modulations, as if caught
From distant echoes of angelic song.
How strange are human sympathies! and all
The subtle secret workings of the soul
That link us to each other. Oft we meet
Some unknown being, and short converse gives
A knowledge as of ages; then again
Long years of converse cannot bring our minds
In unison with others. We may live
In friendship, kindness, gentle amity,
But yet our hearts are conscious of a power
Preventing inmost union. This is seen
Oft in the intercourse of man with man;
But still more oft, though not less wonderful,
Of man with woman; chiefly where the love
Is pure and perfect, from the inmost mind.
Two beings now, whose spirits were prepared
For union with each other—though each thought
Such thing could never be—together met,
And scarce had met before they felt within
An inward prompting, instinct of the soul,
That their two lives were destined to run on
In one united course. Passion for them
Had lost its fiery power and heedless rage,
And burnt with steady flame. Like summer morn
From rosy twilight, with expansion calm,
Unfolding into day, such was the course
Of their unsullied love. Their hands were pledged
With hopeful promise, ’ere few moons had passed;
And ’ere the seasons once had circled round,
Before the altar of yon village church,
Fraught with old memories of wedded love,
The happy pair confirmed their truthful vows
With sacred sanction. Joyous was the day
Through the glad village, and the ancient Hall
Was filled with loud rejoicings. All things wore
An aspect of rich promise, e’en the sky,
As if in sympathy, shone forth with light
More clear and radiant. The early sun
Rose with keen splendour, and at eve he set
In pomp of gold and crimson. Fleecy clouds,
With rainbow colours, graced the burnished vault
Of heaven’s cerulean azure. Day declined
In hues prophetic of succeeding days
As fair and bright, and sweetly shadowed forth
As by an omen, calmer life had dawned
And happier seasons for that wedded pair.
We may grow old in heart, ’ere old in years,
And share age-wisdom, ’ere its glory-crown
Of hoary hairs hath sanctified the brow.
Whatever stirs the inmost depths of soul,
Arousing thought and feeling, calling forth
Life’s strongest passions, rearing into strength
All free-born energies, more swiftly brings
A full maturity than passing time
And common life experience. Thus were taught
These inmates of the Hall; and thus had learned
To look on life with more discerning eye,
Regarding its true aims, its happiness,
And noblest objects. They had felt and found
Earth’s purest pleasures, dwell in social love
And sweet serenities of home, and not
In gaudy pomp and pageantry and show.
Hence with united aim they sought to rear
To loftier growth each faculty and power,
Each thought and feeling that could beautify,
Enrich and sanctify the homely hearth.
The joys of wealth, its dignity and power
Were not despised. The grandeur it confers
Had due appreciation; but the strength
It lends the hand to scatter blessing round
Was thought its noblest privilege. To give,
With generous freedom to the mild demand
Of true necessity, was deemed delight;
But not to scatter with a thoughtless hand
In very wantonness of teeming wealth,
And think such bounty charity. They knew
The richest benefit their aid could give,
The most enduring, most replete with joy
And noble independence, was the means
To all who sought their aid and sustenance,
To help themselves, and by their native power
Rear their own weal. Such prudent practice spread
That peace and comfort, cheerfulness and joy
Amidst the peasants, and around their homes
Threw comliness and beauty; whilst it gave
A richer harvest for the scattered seed
Of generous gift, and made a little wealth
Produce more goodness and true happiness,
Than fortunes lavished with imprudent zeal
And indiscreet deficiency of thought.
Sir Arthur had just passed the middle term
Of “three score years and ten,” when full of hope
Renewed, and cheerful thought, with joy he led
His fair bride from the altar. Every day,
As time rolled on, gave precious proof that hope
Was not unfounded. Brighter grew each hour
Of his expanding life, whilst now he found
The strength of purpose, and the joy of heart
A kindred spirit gives; as thought with thought,
And feeling with deep feeling, swiftly rose
With sweet coincidence in either breast.
And thus their path of life ran smoothly on
Unvaried in direction, like a stream
Whose waters pure had hitherto been led
Within two separate channels; but anon
In peaceful union joining, henceforth pass
Straight onwards o’er some sunny, flowery plain,
To mingle with the ocean. Not that life
For them was destitute of cares and tears
And piercing sorrows; but those fearful pangs,
That tear the heart, and lacerate the soul,
No more were theirs; and having known of such,
And borne with resignation, fortitude,
And hopeful patience, now the lesser ills,
The common pains of life, struck not so deep
Nor with so fell a shock, as arrows glance
Aside from sturdy breasts in armour cased,
And shake not by impinging. Round the hearth
Their richest joys were clustered. Oft at eve,
In converse sweet, enriched by love’s dear tones,
The hours fled gladly by, as on the wings
Of woodland birds rejoicing. Now the muse
Of history would unfold her living page
And make the past the present; and anon
Some work of fiction, writ with moral aim,
Would stir their spirits, as with truthfulness
It shewed the workings of the human heart
And uttered wisdom whilst it gave delight.
Full oft the music of the poet’s page
Would spring to life again: his numbers sweet
Translated into vocal harmony, and thoughts
Transcendent, eloquent, impassioned, bright,
Revealed by living lips. Thus noble minds
Of bygone ages, or of modern date,
Moulded their spirits to a lofter thought
And more exalted feeling. Kindled thus
In kindly concert, to like sympathies
And deep emotions, their united hearts
Grew to more strict similitude, and beat
More perfect in their unison. A bliss,
So calm and sweet, so purely of the soul,